


Hold Me Now

by ununoriginal



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-03
Updated: 2003-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununoriginal/pseuds/ununoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's six feet from the edge, and he's thinking maybe six feet ain't so far down. Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Now

_Hold me now, I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking, maybe six feet ain't so far down…_  
 _\----Creed, "One Last Breath"_  
  
***  
  
He hung dangling, kept from smashing into the concrete of the satellite dish over a hundred feet below.  His arm ached unbearably, the pain radiating from the gashes on his biceps to where James held onto his wrist, nearly crushing the bones in his vise-like grip.  
  
He slipped even further and his chest constricted, but the fingers tightened and he squinted up through the harsh glare of the Cuban sun into stormy blue eyes.  
  
It almost seemed too banal that his life would flash before his eyes, but once triggered, the memories wouldn't stop coming.  
  
He remembered staring back into James' eyes the first time they met – ordered to cooperate with each other for the completion of the mission.  How the antagonism he saw reflected in his own eyes at being forced to work with a virtual stranger gradually melted into familiarity and friendship.  
  
He thought he could hear James' soft murmur of "For England", echoing in his ears in responses to his own every time they embarked on another operation, cheating death for Queen and country.  
  
He'd always needed the sweetness of James' mouth, the salt-spiciness of his skin to wash away the sourbitter tang being a 00 agent left him with – the thanklessness and indifference, the non-acknowledgment that he'd risked life and limb time beyond measure.  
  
Once he'd believed that he could do it, carry on with that pretense of a life, serving as a lapdog to her Majesty's service.  He would be able to turn a blind eye to the betrayal dealt to his people.  Even the gnawing ignominy of his parents' deaths could be assuaged, as long as he had James' touch, as long as James was still there to hold him.  
  
When had that stopped being enough?  
  
Another jerk on his arm and he forced himself to look back up at James' face, beautiful still.  Beautiful and remote.  Closed off.  No longer his.  
  
Maybe it had stopped being enough when he realised that for James, Queen and country would always be foremost.  
  
So he had broken away, and without James to hold him back, he been free to fly, to exact his revenge on a petty country that had sent thousands of innocents to humiliation, misery and death.  He'd flown as high as he could, and now, he'd gotten too close to the sun.  
  
"For England, James?"  
  
"No, Alec."  James' voice was sadder, the tone more defeated than he'd ever heard it.  "This one's for me."  
  
James let him go.


End file.
